


Obvious

by nerigby96



Category: Martin and Lewis
Genre: 1940s, Fluff and Angst, Goodbyes, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24926548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerigby96/pseuds/nerigby96
Summary: September, 1944Jerry accompanies Dean to the train station, just to say goodbye.
Relationships: Jerry Lewis/Dean Martin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Obvious

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solsikkepop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solsikkepop/gifts).



The kid helped him pack, silent save the intermittent sniffles, and Dean hated that, hated how he'd go quiet awhile and seem to be okay, and then break the delicate peace they'd made with another sniff, another reminder, and how he wouldn't speak, and Dean didn't know how he'd gotten so used to the kid's motormouthed presence, excited or nervous or anything, any emotion expressed with too many words, and he couldn't understand why suddenly silence was so awful, why he would crave an empty room, a hasty exit, but now suddenly he needed to talk, and so he made a joke, something small, just to try, just to get him feeling a little better, and the kid giggled but still couldn't quite look at him, embarrassed about what he'd said, about getting confused, but sweet and helpful and wanting to carry Dean's bag for him, so he did, all the way down Lexington, and now they're huddled on the empty train station, under cover but still exposed, basically alone besides the fella with the whistle and the flag, breath misting the air and shivering, fingers shoved deep into armpits, stamping feet, and the kid shaking so bad Dean's afraid he might start rattling, so he opens his coat and wraps him up and tells him he didn't have to come.

"Well," he says, like listing groceries, "I wanna kiss you goodbye."

"Jerry, we talked about—"

"And I wanna run alongside the train like you're goin' off to war!" Dreamy-eyed, hands clasped at his breast, he breaks away and twirls in place and dissolves into giggles, face in his hands. Trembling.

They're quiet then. Cold gnawing again. Dean pulls his coat tight around himself and stares down the tracks. Waits for a glimpse of the train. Feels the kid sidle up, silent, a little cowed maybe, and press gently with his foot on Dean's toes. A hesitant stroke on his ankle.

"Tell ya what," he says, and Jerry snaps to attention. "Pick one."

"Huh?"

"Pick one." Almost can't believe he's considering it. Not after what happened in his room. "Won't let ya do both," he says. "So pick."

Jerry gnaws his index finger, frowning. Dean sees cogs turning. Behind him, there's a rumble on the tracks.

"C'mon, kid, make up your mind."

The kid beams at him. Dean has enough time to think it's too early for the sun to be coming out like that, and then the kid's holding his face as he quickly, enthusiastically makes up his mind.

He's released and wipes his mouth and turns and, as the train pulls in, looks pointedly away and steps on without another word, without a glance back, even as fingers skitter down his coat and he thinks they might take hold of the hem and keep him there for just a second, thinks he might have to say _No_ gently and peel the hand away, might have to ignore tears standing in hazel eyes, so looks away, keeps his back a firm wall, shows his ticket and slides down the aisle to his seat and falls into it with a heavy sigh, luggage stowed.

Dean leans back his head and closes his eyes. He waits. And waits. Everything takes time, so much time, and he hopes the kid'll give up and leave. Knows how ridiculous _that_ is. Finally, the whistle blows. Smoke billows. Dean doesn't look because he knows, he knows despite the choice he gave the kid, that he's running alongside anyway, running like a soldier's wife, like a little boy unsure when or even if Dad's coming back, like he might be able to catch up and jump on and join him. A fella's voice, behind Dean, pipes up, comments, must have spotted him, and Dean sighs again, sits up, runs a hand over his face. Looks.

They're almost gone, and there's the kid at the end of the platform, arms flapping like flags in a thunderstorm, and he must know Dean's turned to look, because he cups his hands around his mouth and screams into the dark and the smoke and the screech and rumble of wheels on tracks words snatched away and lost, but still he screams them again and again and again and Dean can't hear but he knows, and Christ, it was always so obvious, he can't even think when he figured it out.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had planned for ages a multi-chapter fic about a few things that take place before this, and because this part never seemed to have a place in that story, I thought I'd just write it separately now. I hope you enjoyed it <3


End file.
